Dancing With Death
by The Dude Slayer
Summary: DOATec gathers all its investors and some of the world's richest people together for a party. Two targets of revenge attend the party, along with those that are looking for revenge.


Dancing With Death The Dude Slayer No Tomorrow Productions  
  
An ancient castle in western Germany. Numerous limousines, of various lengths, makes, and colors, pull up to the front doors allowing their passengers access via the red carpet provided. Among the countless staff and guests a single figure is overlooked as it enters the castle.  
  
The ballroom was situated three floors from the ground. The ballroom held a beautiful medieval feel to it. Chandeliers hung from the high,  
  
vaulted ceiling, lit with candles, providing a sensual feel. Every table held a candelabrum that held five tapered, snow-white candles. The tables themselves were covered with white tablecloths with ice blue place mats. The chairs at each table were beautiful, lacquered oak and maple chairs with seat cushions of ice blue. The entire room was designed to look as if it had snowed inside the ballroom.  
  
A string orchestra took residence against the left wall, their music filling the room with a classical perception. Men of power and wealth  
  
mingled with each other. Trophy wives and professional escorts gossiped in small groups. A few couples even chose to spend their time with each other on the dance floor.  
  
A striking woman in a back-less sapphire dress stood atop the staircase leading to the room. Her pale skin and ivory hair provided a striking  
  
contrast to her eye-catching dress. Poised and graceful, the young woman seemingly floated down the stairs; her ever-watchful eyes taking in the room's many occupants.  
Numerous men caught her eye, many of which graced the covers of Forbes, The Wall Street Journal, and other money related magazines. As she crossed the room a familiar voice grabbed the woman and drew her attention. "So then I take all my tournament winnings and went to Vegas." The woman shuddered as she turned to see Zack chatting it up with a group of middle aged men in expensive tuxedos.  
The Muay Thai fighter stood out like a sore thumb, in more ways than one. The tall dark skinned man was easily noticeable in the group of pale, overweight, balding, white men. But the most notable fact was the twenty centimeter high, orange mohawk that took its place on his otherwise hairless head.  
The woman carefully maneuvered away from Zack and into the crowd to insure there was little chance of her being noticed. With a causality that reflected her grace and possible upscale raising the woman entered a group of men that looked to be straight from the winter edition of International Male.  
  
As the night drew on the music changed from casual and energetic to slightly more somber and relaxed songs. During a more sober song the door above the stairs opened to reveal a man of impressive build. Shoulders squared and held high under his expensively tailored jacket the man stepped into the room, casting a cautious eye over the wide ranging group of people.  
  
With the stealth of a jungle predator the large man stalked off towards the dance floor, all the while taking in the room and it's occupants. 'One exit and the balcony. Not in my favor.'  
As he passed a rather packed table the man noticed a gangly, pale skinned man with glasses talking animatedly with a group of similar people. "And the next Windows release will even carry a new tech support system. It will allow our support team complete access to the user's systems." The large man glared as he passed the table. 'Note to self, switch to Unix-based OS. ASAP.'  
Ignoring the blithering, idiotic, excrement being spewed forth from Bill Gates the man continued his tour of the room. A flash of blonde hair and generous cleavage caught his eye. In the corner farthest from the  
  
orchestra stood a group of women talking and drinking. In the group of aristocratic women one stood out. A low cut silver dress, a necklace of pearls and diamonds, and a blue diamond studded tiara forced people to take notice of the woman. 'The Armstrong woman? Nyet.' The man gave a slight shake of his head before turning his attention elsewhere.  
  
The large man's usually correct assumptions were, this time, wrong. Tina tilted her head back and giggled along with the other women in her group at the horrible joke one of them had told. The glass of champagne in her hand was not strong enough for the wrestler recently turned actress's tastes. Tina's attention turned to a young man in his mid-twenties talking to a group of official looking men; a wicked smile crossed the former model's pristine face. "Excuse me, I see someone I need to speak with." With that Ms.  
  
Armstrong took her leave of the group and made her way to a possible man to spend her night with.  
  
Christie took a long glance over the room. It was obvious that her target had not arrived yet. She had received word from her employer that her chosen target would be making an appearance at this ball. Helena had gone missing after the unofficial Dead or Alive tournament on Zack Island a few short months ago, but the opera singer was slated to make some kind of  
  
appearance this night.  
Deciding to find a more entertaining venue to enjoy the ball, the assassin lifted a corner of her dress slightly and made her way to the  
  
balcony. The bright, full moon shone down outside illuminating the stone and mortar outcropping of the castle. With a silence born from years of caution Christie stepped out of the ballroom and into the night, her heeled slippers made no sound as she walked.  
The balcony was devoid of any people, it's wide-open stone floor  
  
inviting anyone to take residence on it. Christie chose to do just that. A large stone railing wrapped around the outer edge of the balcony, providing a delicate artwork to the building's stone facade and a wonderful place to stand and enjoy the lush, green gardens directly below. In the peace of the night and the gentle music of Mozart filling the air, Christie allowed her guard to falter slightly.  
  
Bayman watched as a familiar form sauntered out the balcony door. 'She is here? This is an unexpected development, but not an unwelcome one. Next, I will probably be seeing those damned ninjas.' The Russian assassin steeled himself as he followed his English counterpart outside; he stopped in the doorway to watch a strange transformation take place before his eyes.  
Christie, leaning against the railing, silhouetted in the moonlight, the female assassin was a vision of beauty that the large Russian was unaccustomed to. Cautiously, and with a healthy amount of fear, Bayman crossed the few feet between himself and Christie, his nerve growing with each step. Covertly the large assassin wrapped his arms around the woman standing before him, and was rewarded with a surprise.  
  
Christie flinched, her natural instinct to stab the person that had just touched her, as the arms wrapped around her waist. Angrily the woman spun on her heel, a small silver stiletto in her hand aimed at the stomach of her "assailant." Christie's hand stopped its forward momentum as her eyes fell upon the familiar face of another assassin. "Bayman." she said his name with caution and a slight reverence as she reached up to run her hand down his cheek.  
"Christie." Bayman's deep voice was enhanced by his thick, natural Russian accent.  
The attractive woman tilted her head back and glanced up at her companion, her eyes catching his. "What brings you to Germany, Comrade?"  
"Business. You?" His response was stilted and direct.  
"Business as well. Are you here alone, or do you have a date."  
Bayman removed his strong arms from around Christie's small waist, ignorant of the slightly disappointed look on her face. "I came alone. It is not often that you find a woman willing to take part in such operations."  
Christie's retort was cut short by the beginning of another song and a hush falling over the crowd indoors. Curiously she looked past Bayman to the ballroom and was rewarded with the sight of the new head of DOATEC, Donavan; standing inside the ballroom's doors, at his side was Helena.  
The opera singer was dressed elegantly; a reflection of her place in society, in a diamond studded off-blue evening gown. Her long blonde hair was tied up in an elegant bun at the back of her head, with curls framing both sides of her face; the rest was left to flow freely down her courtly backside.  
Christie glared at the woman as she entered the room, not taking notice of the unhappy look on Helena's immaculate face.  
  
Bayman gazed casually down to the woman before him, taking note that their conversation no longer kept the assassin's attention. He also took notice that from his vantage Christie's dress provided him with a generous view of her cleavage, though his attention was quickly drawn to Donovan and Helena.  
The large Russian turned on his heel and watched as the duo glided down the stairs. He did not notice that Christie had moved from behind him to his side. Bayman did notice when his companion made a move towards the pair.  
  
Christie stepped around and beside the assassin beside her. Bayman, in her opinion, would make a great human shield, but that wasn't what she needed at the moment. Christie's distaste of other assassins was put aside as she moved forward to dispose of her target, only to be stopped by a weight being pushed down on her shoulders.  
Christie turned her head to the side to find Bayman's eyes narrowed and the large Russian glaring at Donavan. "Remove your hand."  
Bayman's eyes traveled down to his hand then to Christie's dark eyes. "No. To attack now would be foolish. Wait. Allow them to relax. The woman is expecting you to attack now, if you give her time she will drop her guard and she will become an easier target."  
Christie looked questioningly at her companion. That had to be the most she had ever heard Bayman say at one time. Quickly her mind ran over the idea, and what she came up with was that Bayman was right, and she hated that. "You're right. I'll wait."  
Bayman nodded as he turned back to the ballroom. "Would you like a glass of champagne. I overheard the waiters mention that Donovan had broken out the Dom for this event."  
Christie was silent for a moment as she debated the thought. Dom was an excellent champagne, and quite expensive, but Christie also knew she needed to keep her wits about herself. After another few seconds of debating she came to her decision, to find a waiter standing before herself and  
  
Bayman. The Russian assassin was ordering for them.  
"Ein glas Dom für die dame, und den besten bourbon für mich." The waiter nodded once before disappearing back into the crowds.  
"Impressive."  
Bayman looked down at his companion. "You're surprised? I assume you too are fluent in other languages."  
The waiter reappeared with two glasses on his tray. A single champagne flute filled with a transparent amber liquid, which Christie selected. The warm snifter filled partly with dark maroon liquid was taken into Bayman's gloved hands, the stem sliding between his middle and third fingers. "Vielen Dank." Bayman said, slipping the young man a single bill. The waiter accepted the cash with a smile and a nod before returning to the main room.  
  
Christie smiled devilishly from behind her champagne flute. "I see you tip the help."  
Bayman flinched slightly. "Not badly enough it seems. This is nowhere near warm enough." The Russian sipped his liquor again before smirking. "I'm glad that was a counterfeit, or else I'd be pissed." Casually he  
  
reached into his pocket and withdrew a lighter, with which he used to heat the glass holding his liquor.  
Christie tittered slightly as she imagined the look on the waiter's face when he realized what happened. "He'll be happy to learn that."  
Bayman shrugged, his well-cut jacket rising with his large shoulders. "I could care less. He should have taken his time and warmed this properly, and I might have actually tipped him." With that said he replaced the  
  
lighter and tasted his drink once more.  
  
The haunting melody of a bow running across the strings of a single cello echoed off the castle's great walls. A pair of well tuned and immaculately played violins accompanied the cello. The quick pace of a viola, to create the opening chords of Pachelbel's Kanon D-dur, joined the beautiful and haunting music.  
Bayman placed his glass down on the stone railing and held out his hand. "Sorge zu tanzen, meine dame?" With a sweep, Bayman's left leg slid behind his right as be bowed low at the waist.  
  
Christie was slightly taken back by Bayman's actions. This was a man that she had seen in combat break Jann Lee's leg just to advance to the next round of the tournament, and now he was bowing before her like a prince. The albino woman reached out and took the Russian's hand; her small, feminine hand was engulfed in Bayman's. "Ja, guter Herr. Ich würde liebe zu."  
Bayman nodded as he pulled the lithe woman close to his large chest and began to waltz with her. Bayman quickly took the lead, not giving Christie any time to do anything but follow, an action that Christie was not fond of. "Your German is excellent, where did you learn?"  
Christie smirked as she was spun around on her heels to the quickening pace of the violins. "Berlin. I spent a year there."  
Bayman nodded as he side stepped taking his partner with him. The pair danced and twirled to a pair of violins. Bayman's lead keeping pace with the slowing and quickening of the stringed instruments. The moonlight shining down on the pair acted like a spotlight, illuminating just them as the rest of the world disappeared.  
The midpoint of the song drew the viola out into the open allowing it to outshine its fellow strings before fading to the back with the cello. The violins returned stronger than before. The instruments' pace slowed allowing dancers a moment of closeness before the tempo rose once more. Christie did not allow this moment to pass her by as she moved closer to Bayman, wrapping her arms around his muscular back, his hands slid down to find a place at her petite waist.  
The orchestra continued to strive forward, note after note, chord after angelic chord, partygoers and dancers moved and flowed to the rhythm of the music. Sorrowful and mourning the orchestra drew the song out, wrenching emotions from those in the room.  
Out on the balcony a waltz continued with a pair most odd. Bayman spun Christie 360 degrees once, before pulling her close and sidestepping, leading to a back step and the pair twirling together. Bayman held close to the woman in his arms, who in turn held close to him. The zenith of the music struck with the cello releasing a haunting tune that drew the dancers closer together.  
  
"Meine tödliche Schneeflocke." The words burned Christie's ears as she felt Bayman's breath on her neck. At the same time she notice that Bayman's left hand had moved from the small of her back, and had returned holding something. The item was cold and hard as it pressed into Christie's naked flesh.  
A sly grin overtook the usually stoic woman as she felt the item change hands. Bayman now held the item in his right hand, and Christie could feel his strong arms return to holding her close. Casually she leaned closer to her partner and whispered in his ear. "Desert Eagle."  
Bayman gave no response as the orchestra slowed their playing. The last few notes played echoing through the ballroom. The Russian looked down at his partner and smiled a gentle and reassuring smile. The large man leaned forward, taking his partner with him as he lowered her towards the stone floor. Just as it seemed that he had lost his grip Bayman pulled Christie back up to stand before him. Gently he leant forward and placed his lips atop hers, a small surge passing through the pair.  
The orchestra played its final note and for a moment the ball was silent. That silence was not to last, as the orchestra played the first note to Beethoven's "Ode to Joy," a shot rang out through the open room.  
  
The sound of the gun firing in the expansive ballroom sounded more like a cannon round being fired. The female attendants soon began to scream and rush for the door, the men while attempting to retain some semblance of control they joined their companions in fleeing for their lives. In the midst of all the chaos, Bayman was a pillar of serenity as he strode purposefully through the mob.  
  
Christie watched as the Russian assassin casually made his way through the throng. The man exuded suave and cool as he used his superior strength to slowly walk through the crowd. With a slight shake of her head the  
  
British woman turned to the center of the ballroom to find a sight that would appall most people.  
Donavan lie on his stomach, a gaping, bleeding hole in the back of his well-maintained hair through his head, and out his face. A similar wound appeared in reverse on his date, Helena. The blonde woman was lying on her back, blood pooling from the missing section of her head.  
Christie's smile disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl. Not only had Bayman stolen a kiss from her, he had also taken the joy of the kill from her. And that was unacceptable. From where she was, Christie could still see Bayman as he turned back to look in her direction. A smug smirk slithered onto his strong face. The Russian nodded once before turning and disappearing into the crowd.  
  
The albino woman left standing on the castle balcony glared at the two dead bodies inside the room. A chilling darkness seemed to form around her as she watched the blood pool out from the corpses. "I will kill that man." she whispered to the wind.  
  
All characters property of TECMO and Team Ninja. I don't own anything except for the story.  
  
German translations:  
  
Ein glas Dom für die dame, und den besten bourbon für mich  
A glass of Dom for the lady, and the best bourbon for me  
  
Vielen Dank  
Thank you  
  
Sorge zu tanzen, meine dame?  
  
Care to dance, my lady?  
  
Ja, guter Herr. Ich würde liebe zu  
Yes, good sir. I would love to  
  
Meine tödliche Schneeflocke  
My deadly snowflake  
  
Any C&C can be sent to redrum124@bigfoot.com 


End file.
